


Punishment

by WholockHobbit88



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: M/M, Masochism, Punishment, Self Loathing, Tencest, hurt/ comfort, pain/ pleasure, self hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:32:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1287994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WholockHobbit88/pseuds/WholockHobbit88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternative reality where the metacrisis doctor travels with the Doctor and Rose he becomes a special companion to the Doctor who helps him with his need for punshiment and comfort, knowing exactly what the Doctor needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punishment

The satin of the blindfold slipped over the Doctor’s eyes, darkness surrounding him. A shiver went through him, goose bumps rising up on his skin from his neck down to his ankles. The lack of light and control made him feel desperate; he could feel the worry rush down to his feet, making them warm. His breath tried to increase but he forced his body to slow down and not get carried away; certainly not before anything even happened. Blindfolds encompassed fears he held down deep inside. The fear of the unknown, lack of control, pain…..it all came back to him when the smooth fabric covered his eyes. He was suddenly overtaken by memories, summoned only by the simple presence of the blindfold. 

“Don’t tell me you’re going to start weeping already……I know you’re pathetic but I didn’t think even you were that pathetic” came the taunting, dark version of his own voice purring in his ear from behind. 

“I’m not pathetic” the Doctor said, his voice raspy and unconvincing. Maybe if he said it, he’d believe it. But of course he wouldn’t and John knew that. After all, he was him; he knew exactly what the purpose of all of this was. 

The Doctor didn’t even hear him moving before he felt the thumb move into his mouth, making it near impossible to say anything else. John pressed down hard on the Doctor’s tongue, the taste of biscuits and the metallic taste that he knew only to be the TARDIS coming to his mouth. He felt the temptation to close his lips around it and suck, gently, comfortably. He didn’t; if he did that now he was likely to just get a thumb shoved down his throat. Right now this was for dominance and to keep him quiet. The comforting could, and would, come later. He knew that as much as John knew he needed this part. 

When John had first been created by the metacrisis, the Doctor had not been at all happy about it. He was not at all keen on the idea of having a walking, talking human version of himself. It was more than a little unnerving, seeing someone that looked exactly like you, spoke like you , was you in nearly every way and yet somehow wasn’t you. John was him but he was a more damaged, dangerous version. He reminded the Doctor of who he had been; or rather who he was deep down inside. He didn’t want to have anything at all to do with him. Ironically, it had been Rose that had convinced him to let John stay (and the one who had so kindly named him John). As usual, he couldn’t say no when it came to Rose; he had given John a chance. At first, things really hadn’t been going well at all. It really wasn’t all that easy getting along with someone who was exactly like you. You knew exactly what buttons to press, what things to say to get under their skin; the Doctor was sure that they fought about nearly everything those first several weeks together. Again, it had been Rose that had kept them together and kept them from killing each other. But eventually, slowly, they had begun to tolerate each other. Once they began to tolerate each other they found that they even liked each other. As much as they knew what got under each other’s skins, they also knew what they liked and needed. 

And that is how these unique punishments began. John knew what the Doctor needed because it was so deeply ingrained in him as well. He knew how much he hated himself, blamed himself for all the ill in the universe and how he sought punishment for his terrible shortcomings. John’s solution was a lot more pleasant and effective than his own forms of self-harm. Knowing him as only John could, he knew that the Doctor would never ask for this arraignment but being bolder and harsher than the Doctor he had the courage to propose these meetings. Punishment that spoke to his need for self -deprecation followed by comfort that spoke to a deeper need he had for comfort that he rarely allowed himself, all done during Rose’s long human sleeping hours. It wasn’t that they sought to exclude her or hide something from her; she wouldn’t understand. Rose, in all her goodness, would try to reassure the Doctor that he was a good man, that he didn’t deserve punishment. She’d admonish John for hurting him and try to comfort him. He didn’t deserve Rose’s comfort. 

John left his finger in the Doctor’s mouth far too long, taunting him, pressing down far too long and urging him to fight back or suck. The Doctor knew better and simply focused on the intriguing taste and keeping his breathing from getting out of control. Eventually, John pulled his hand away and began to pace around the Doctor. The Doctor’s ears were very attuned to the sound of his footsteps so he could tell exactly where John was. It seemed like a very long time that he walked around the Doctor and it was increasing his anxiousness. He didn’t like not being able to see; his twin hearts were beating hard as he anticipated what would come next. He could still pull the blindfold off; he wasn’t tied up or anything, simply sitting in a chair for now. They both knew he wouldn’t take it off.

“Well, Doctor” John said finally, continuing the pacing “What have you got to say for yourself? Are you going to try to defend your horrible behavior or shall I just start lashing you now? We both know scum like you deserves every hit he gets.”

“I’m not scum” the Doctor said weakly, dropping his head as if to not meet John’s eyes even though he was blindfolded. He always argued and it was always weak. He wanted to believe what he was saying but he didn’t. 

John stopped pacing and came to stand behind the Doctor, making him feel exceptionally vulnerable. A moment later he could feel his long hair grabbed and tugged, forcing his head back and making him call out in pain. “Not scum? Ha……I think there are many who would not agree with you, Doctor” John hissed in his ear, his hot, sweet breath tickling his ear and neck. “What about your companions, Doctor? The people who came with you because you were so charming and amazing that you seduced them into their deaths or ruined lives” 

The Doctor gritted his teeth at the pain that continued to spring up from his scalp as a thousand memories came to his mind of simple humans that he had hurt because of his own selfish needs. “But….but they wanted to come with me” the Doctor insisted. “I forced no one to travel with me”

John twisted his fingers deeper into the Doctor’s hair, making him squeal in an undignified way. “You may have not forced them physically but you showed them the wonders of all time and space, showing off how you love to do” John said. “How could a human resist that urge? You always conveniently leave out the part where they will be hurt because of their travels with you. And you do it for one big reason; you’re selfish”

“I’m not selfish!” the Doctor shouted in desperation. “I’m lonely.” 

It hurt the Doctor to admit it but it was true. Of course he traveled with companions because they staved off the horrible loneliness but that didn’t make it right, didn’t make it fair to them. His throat got tight and he was glad that he didn’t have to look at John. 

“Precisely” John spat, his lips now close enough to the Doctor’s ear to brush it; on purpose. “You’re lonely. It’s about you…..you use them for your own purposes. It’s disgusting…..so selfish of you”

The Doctor felt sick at his stomach; it was selfish. It wasn’t about showing his companions about the wonderful universe. It was about giving himself a companion, a wingman. When he was alone he would reach for the nearest thing he could find and hope it stuck. He couldn’t be alone for any amount of time without it driving him insane. It didn’t matter to him that they could be hurt or killed; that only mattered once it had happened. He didn’t think of it before hand; he was too consumed with his own need. 

“I’m sorry” the Doctor said, his voice filling with emotion and unshed tears. “I’m so, so sorry.” He felt like crying but he managed to hold it in; it was still amazing to him how easily he could be reduced to tears during these playdates. 

John let go of his hair and the Doctor heard his footsteps move to stand in front of him. “Sorry? You’re sorry?” he asked in mocking. “Yeah, that’s right isn’t it? You’re always so very sorry…….but what good does that do to anyone? You just say sorry because it makes you feel better, not because it does anyone any good”

The Doctor felt his lip quivering and he bit it back. “I don’t mean to harm anyone……I really am sorry” he said, remorse dripping from his words. 

There was a moment’s pause before John spoke again. “Take off your clothes” he barked. 

The dull fear that was plaguing the Doctor became a violent, pressing need. “W-what?” he asked. He knew this part and he knew what it meant and even though he needed it he didn’t want it. 

“You heard me” John said darkly. “I’m tired of hearing you blubbering. Take it off”

The Doctor’s feet and palms were sweaty, his hearts beating hard. He wanted to fight it but he knew from experience that just made it worse. He hated being naked in front of others; it left him feeling horribly exposed, more so than others might view it. The Doctor’s fingers were shaking he reached for the buttons on his jacket; He missed more than once. After slipping it off, he tugged on his tie, his sweaty fingers sliding off before getting a good grip and yanking it off. The buttons on his shirt seemed to take even longer than the ones on his jacket. He could hear a huff of impatience from John.

“Well…..you’re not done yet” he said, snorting in frustration. 

The Doctor was bare from the waist up but he had paused involuntarily before continuing. This part was more difficult. He knew if he thought about it logically it was ridiculous. John and he looked exactly the same so he shouldn’t be embarrassed. It wasn’t really about embarrassment; it was about the exposure and lack of control.   
Starting with his shoes and working up to his trousers and pants, he knew he was taking longer than necessary. He was surprised John didn’t get annoyed and do it for him. Half the time he liked the control of ripping the Doctor’s clothes off for him and the other half of the time he enjoyed watching the Doctor grow more and more nervous as he undressed himself. 

Eventually the Doctor sat completely bare, listening for John trying to decide what his punishment would be this time but he was too quiet. Goose bumps sprang up on the Doctor’s skin and he felt the temperature in the TARDIS changed to make him more comfortable. 

“Stand up” John commanded, standing in front of him, watching him carefully no doubt; taking in and enjoying his uncomfortableness. 

“Why?” the Doctor asked. It was part of his lack of submissiveness, to question everything that was posed to him. It came out before he could stop it, which he would have had he thought about it. 

It wasn’t a surprise when he felt a hard smack to the face. “When I tell you to do something, you just do it” John seethed. “You don’t question me. You’re used to giving the orders, but look how that has turned out? Death and destruction around you…..time you let someone else call the orders don’t you think?” The Doctor knew better than to answer that. 

John grabbed the Doctor roughly by the hand and pulled him up. He dragged him a few feet before he threw him down. His face and body fell into something soft and plush; his bed. He allowed himself a moment to enjoy softness of the bed before the pain that was likely to continue; his hearts were already sore with the sadness and shame John’s verbal abuse and he knew he knew his body was soon to be in just as much pain. The Doctor had just pushed himself up to a sitting position on his knees when he felt John wrench his hands behind his back, another silk tie on his skin. As John tied his hands behind his hands behind his back, the Doctor felt the classic signs of panic assaulting his body; his hearts were palpitating, his breaths shallow, giving him a sense of dizziness and disorientation. Not being able to see or use his hands, being tied up and essentially helpless brought back someone of his worst memories but he forced himself to calm down. He had had panic attacks during these rituals before and while John was understanding about it and instantly stopped, it didn’t complete the ritual that the Doctor needed. Luckily, he wasn’t in full blown panic yet and John knew that. 

“What’s the matter, Doctor?” John asked from somewhere distantly in the room. The Doctor wondered what he was doing. 

“N-nothing” the Doctor said, not able to say much as he was using most of his respiratory energy simply keeping his breathing normal. 

“Nothing? It would appear that’s a lie” John said, getting closer to him. “You are obviously very upset. But, you’re a liar aren’t you? You won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

The Doctor was a liar; everyone learned that eventually with him. The Doctor didn’t try to argue for himself this time. 

“You’re scared aren’t you, Doctor?” John asked, very close to him now. “You probably think I shouldn’t do anything to you……have any arguments to convince me of that?” 

The Doctor had mostly regulated his breathing by this point but the anticipation of what was going to happen was nearly his undoing. “Because it…..it hurts me” the Doctor said weakly. It was the only argument that he could think of even though he knew it was a stupid thing to say. He couldn’t argue that he didn’t deserve it because he did. 

“Ah……poor Doctor” John said in taunting voice. “Poor, fragile Doctor doesn’t want me to hit him.” 

The Doctor was not prepared for the hit; something thin and hard hit him from behind. It stung his skin, making a sore path from his backside to the middle of his back. He was surprised and couldn’t hold in the desperate call that came from his mouth. He wasn’t sure what it was that had hit him but it hurt. 

“Well, you know what, Doctor?” John asked in a strong and mocking voice. “No one else wants to be hurt either and yet you always allow others to get hurt. You rise from it always, time lord victorious, while the ones weaker around you suffer. You’re pathetic” 

Another hit, this one starting from the middle of his back and making its way to his shoulder hit him. Fiery pain seeped into his skin. He gasped, trying to hold in his pain but not able to stay completely quiet. He involuntarily tried to move his hands to cover himself but the tie on his wrists cut into his skin painfully. He hung his head, breathing through clenched teeth before gaining some control. “I’m not pathetic!” he argued. Arguing always made it worse. 

One, two, three times his instrument of torture hit him on the back and shoulders and the Doctor fell face forward into the bed, unable to catch himself. He whimpered, tears in his eyes but he still refused to cry. When he cried he was broken completely and that’s when it was over. The stubborn part of him still held on. His skin alight with pain, he managed to pull himself up. 

“You are pathetic!” John spat back, close to his ear so that the Doctor could feel his breath. “Even now you’re only concerned about yourself, making sure you win, that you’re right. When are you going to realize that you aren’t the most important thing in the universe?” 

“I never said I was” the Doctor gasped. His skin was still burning when he was smacked again, twice. He crumbled onto the bed and this time he didn’t get up. A tear made its way out of his eye but he pressed his face into the duvet on his bed to hide it. John grabbed him by one shoulder, the sensitive skin screaming in pain, his other hand in the Doctor’s long hair, making his scalp ache. He moaned in pain as John put him into a sitting position again. 

“So arrogant” John spat “Even now you won’t give in. The man who destroyed his entire planet, who watched his own people burn, still thinks he’s so important” 

No….not that. Anything but that…..Gallifrey, destroying his planet and people was his weak spot. John knew this, of course. “That.....that…..wasn’t…..easy” he tried to argue. 

“Of course it wasn’t easy!” John roared, pulling on the Doctor’s hair so hard he wondered if any of it was actually pulled out. “You destroyed your own people…..doesn’t matter if it hurt you. The fact that you did it makes you a monster”

“I’m sorry” the Doctor muttered, seeing the terrible demise of his planet in his mind’s eye. It fell on deaf ears. 

John slammed the Doctor’s face into the bed, howling his words in his ears. “Did you like it!? Did you enjoy watching your own people burn?! I bet you still hear the cries in your ears!” 

John had now gained a rhythm of smacking the Doctor between sentences. If he wasn’t already lying down he would be now. The pain was excruciating and he felt his stomach rolling with nausea. He could see the fires burning in his head, hear the screaming of his people…..could feel the terrible empathetic emptiness that he had felt as all of his people had died. He was alone…..he had done this. What kind of sick person did that? No matter if it was the only option; a decent person wouldn’t have even considered it. 

“What kind of person does that?” John questioned, mirroring his thoughts “Why kind of sick, demented person does that? Hit. You’re a murder…..but worse than that. Hit. You committed the genocide of two races. Hit. Not even the Daleks considered that. Hit. You are sick….demented…..disgusting. Hit. You should have died that day with everyone else, you pathetic piece of garbage." Hit, hit, hit. 

That was it. “I’m sorry!! I know I should have died…..I deserve to die!” the Doctor whimpered into the covers, tears streaming down his eyes. “I hate myself and I hate what I do to the people around me.” 

The Doctor’s back, shoulders and backside burned with pain and he twitched slightly from the overload of pain. Tears ran down his face, combining with the mucus running from his nose as he sobbed pathetically. He cried so hard that his body shook, only intensifying his pain. It was all true; everything John said was true and he hated himself for it. 

As the Doctor sniveled on the bed, he felt hands on his wrists and the silk around them was loosened, his hands falling to his sides lifelessly. A moment later he felt hands on his head and then the cover on his eyes fell away. Light assaulted his crying eyes that had adjusted to the lack of light. He felt a gentle hand rub across his back, meant to be comforting but it stung horribly. 

“Shhh……don’t cry. It’s alright” John cooed gently beside him. He always stopped when the Doctor cried; now came the other part of their ritual. 

The Doctor pushed himself up and looked at John for the first time. He was smiling warmly at him; lovingly. “Doctor…..I’m right here and it’s alright. Come here” he said gently, opening his arms. The Doctor would never be this open with anyone else; with John it was easy. 

The Doctor climbed into John’s lap as much as his long frame would allow. He tried to stop his violent sobbing but as he leaned into John and felt him embrace him back, it only seemed to get worse. He never cried except when they had these meetings and the force of holding it in always meant he broke down hard when it finally came down to this. As the Doctor settled into John’s lap, he felt a blanket pulled over him and he silently thanked him for it. The Doctor leaned his head against John’s shoulder his body and soul aching. John ran his hand through the Doctor’s hair, this time not to hurt him but to comfort him. His hand moved around, rubbing gently in certain places just the way that he liked. 

“I’m…..so….worthless” the Doctor bemoaned quietly, gasping for air as his crying calmed. 

“Now, now……don’t tear yourself down Doctor” John cooed in his ear. His hand went from the Doctor’s hair to his very sensitive back; reaching over on the bedside table he put some sort of cream or salve on his hand before placing it on the Doctor’s skin. He rubbed along his tender flesh, light as a feather. It hurt at first but then it began to sink in and felt cool and helped him feel better. Even after the salve had been absorbed, John’s hand along his back helped him calm down. 

“How can I not?” the Doctor asked, hiding his face in John’s blue pinstriped jacket. “They always die…..they always hurt…..because of me”

“Shhhh…..” John whispered back “You know that isn’t true. Think of all of the worlds you’ve saved, how many people are alive because of you. You can’t save everyone, Doctor, but you do a lot of good and you have to know that” 

The Doctor felt something press to his lips and he opened his mouth without even looking, knowing what it would be. He tasted that unique taste of TARDIS and time lord pheromones that was so much like his but also different as he sucked softly on John’s finger. 

“You’re a good man, Doctor” John continued to praise him, knowing how much he needed it. “You’re too hard on yourself. People love you, even if you don’t love yourself” 

The Doctor focused on John and how comforting he was and how much he wanted his words to be true and released a sigh. His pain, physically and emotional was starting to wane. Tomorrow, they would be shooting each other shy looks over the breakfast table, not even wanting to admit to theirselves about these meetings. Rose would notice the strange looks and laugh, making a comment on how similar their expressions were. But she would also comment on how relaxed and at ease the Doctor seemed. Then, they would meet another new world, running off into danger and excitement together, worlds of weight off the Doctor’s shoulders.


End file.
